I've been feeling very poetic since I returned from Lake Como, but I'm using up my reservoir of words on the first draft of my novel.
Then I remembered these dreamy, misty shots, taken from the famous Bernina Express that wends its way through the Swiss Alps from Tirano, Italy to St Moritz and beyond; its huge glass windows perfect for capturing the magnificent views.

You don't always need words to experience poetry, and for me, these images conjure a sense of 'poetry in motion', complete with their reflections and blurring due to the movement of the train.

I love the name of this lake - Miralago - 'mirror lake'. In colour it was a deep turquoise and I started to imagine what it was like to live in that house...

The temperature dropped around 10 degrees once we left Italy and the atmospheric mists clinging to each other, hovering like mountain ghosts, only added to the experience putting me in mind of Scotland in the colder months.

I can't pretend any longer that autumn isn't creeping into the early mornings and late nights (here in the UK at least).

So today my two worlds collide: my holiday experience into a magical and misty landscape that seemed so familiar (reflecting back to me the mountains of Scotland), but also not familiar at all; new and different and exciting. And my home experience of the familiar cold splash of an autumnal morning, frost on the windows and mist in the hills.